From the Author

Translated by
Edmund Henenfeld

I was born in Boryslaw, a town whose character was determined by crude oil and therefore very different from other places in the region. I spent my childhood and youth among oil wells which reeked of the characteristic odour of black gold. This atmosphere strongly influenced my future career. I chose chemistry. Because, like other young Jews I was restricted by the numerousclausus[1], I left the country on the advice of older friends to study industrial chemistry [2] in France. I specialized in crude oil and remained loyal to my specialty until my retirement. The friendships formed during these years have survived the upheaval of the war and, insofar as the laws of nature allow, we maintain contact in spite of the distance separating us.

The history of this book began twelve years ago when by sheer chance, a group of former Boyslawians met in the capital of Sweden. It difficult
to imagine what these meetings were like and how many tears were shed. Do you remember?… This question was repeated again and
again, especially on the occasion when we met at Beka and Kulo Meisels'[3]home What emotions did each of us experience? The occasion took on a special character when we looked at albums with photographs of
the town, of old friends whom we had not seen for a long time. The eyes of young people were staring at us, people whom we no longer resembled, people who were familiar to us, people whom we no longer meet, of whom only memories are left. Yes…yes . We looked at their faces through the veil of profuse tears and if one made a sound it was only a sigh …Do you remember?…

The silence was deep,.. deep as the well of our memory. Time passed … the albums passed from one to another… and then, so very quietly we heard
the voice of Ro'z*ia who had come from Poland: "It must be written down; this has to be passed on to our children."

A pause and then Ro'z*ia turned to me: "You must write it down; you have to describe today's meeting. Let it be in the form of a testimonial, something so that it not be lost … We have to save it from oblivion … by any means!"

This happened in the summer of 1978.

In November of the same year I published an article entitled, "Boryslaw of our Youth" in Nowiny Kurier, a Polish newspaper in Tel Aviv. The next day I received a phone call from Munysz Majer z"l, a representative of the Committee "Do not forget". He proposed that I write a Sefer Yizkor dedicated to the victims of the extermination in Boryslaw.

"Unfortunately I do not know how to write books," was my answer.

But Majer's proposal haunted me. I began to conduct research like a journalist. I met former Boryslawians; I recorded their memories on tape; I found an opportunity to use the testimonies of Yad Vashem and the narratives which former Boryslawians sent to me. That's how this collection was born which I called The Tys'mienica Still Flows, since this phrase captures the character of the history of the town.

I realize that in writing a memoir of a town and its inhabitants one must include many things, with one goal only, "to save this from oblivion".

Footnotes

AI: Author's index. At the end of the printed book is an index of names and a glossary. For the purpose of publication on the Internet, these entries have been put into the footnotes for each chapter.

1Numerus clausus: limit imposed on the number of candidates admitted a to group, often applied to religious or ethnic minorities, particularly Jews who lived in central Europe in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. Between the wars in Poland, Leopold Held and his contemporaries would have been subject to the laws which restricted the number of Jews who could attend universities. Some courses of study were not open at all (numerus nullus). Although decisions of this nature were taken independently by university senates, the Polish government did not challenge them. Jews were also hampered in other ways. In some cases Polish students introduced "ghetto benches" (Polish: ghetto lawkowe) which restricted where Jews could sit in the classroom. Many Jews refused to sit on these benches and took notes standing throughout entire lectures. Some Polish students stood with them. Periodically, Jews would also be harassed and beaten up by anti-Semitic Jewish groups on a university campus. As a result, many Galician Jews went abroad to study. Back

2 Mr Held states that he studied industrial chemistry in France. This translation is correct. However, now this specialty
is now known as chemical engineering. Prior to World War II , the term "industrial chemistry" was used in order to differentiate it from "pure" (or laboratory) chemistry. Back

3 Meisels, Beki: author's sister in law, evacuated with him and his wife to Kazahstan. From 1969 in Stockholm, the Boryslaw reunion was organized at the apartment of her and her husband, Kulo. AI Meisels, Kulo: member of the Boryslaw Jewish sports clubs, host of the Boryslaw reunion in Stockholm, in 1978. AIBack

[Pages 8-34]

The Beginnings

A Difficult Birth

(A Somewhat Fictionalized History)

Translated by Chris Wozniak

Where have you come from? And you? Common, simple, direct questions, typical of introductions in Israel.

I came from Poland, from Warsaw, but my origins are in Borysław. Ah, Borysław! That's petroleum ... just a moment ... I had friends there, before the war. I think I met them in Sopot,[1] or perhaps in Truskawiec.[2] Truskawiec ... it's close to your hometown, isn't it? Those friends of mine, I remember, were involved with oil, wells, or something. You must have known them ... Stern, Himmel, - Bloch, I think an engineer. Do you know what happened to them?

A wave of my hand was enough of an answer.

Before Borysław that's petroleum, this was the story:

The history of the town, when it was still a sparsely populated sub-Carpathian village, as its name indcates,[3] did not begin with petroleum. The quality of the soil in the village was not uniformly good. In some areas the inhabitants had no problems with cultivation. The earth bore crops in accordance with the seasons; the water drawn from the wells, even shallow ones, was good and fresh.

But it happened that the Jews had settled in other parts, where the soil was hard. They were either forced or persuaded to stay in these areas. Burekh Gruber built his shack there with the help of his grown sons. His better half, Leah constantly nagged him: Where are your brains? Can a Jew can be that stupid! Why do we have to live here, where nothing will grow where there's no water? Oh G-d, G-d, help us ...

The patient husband tried to pacify his wife: G-d is generous, G-d will provide ...

Nearby lived Luzer Hersh Nadler, who had come from Kropiwnik a few years earlier after the floods took away what he inherited from his father, zihrono l'vraha.[4] He decided to move to another village, one on flat land by a smaller river, far away from the one whose raging waters would flood his native Kropiwnik. And besides this, a relative of his lived here as well. A remote relative, it is true, but kin. Also, Reb[5] Schreiner, that very relative, was widely known not only as a pious Jew, learned in the Holy Scriptures, almost like a rabbi, but was also talked about as a wise man with a good head on his shoulders, who could even read Gentile writing.

And so gradually, like lemmings, they migrated and a significant settlement grew, inhabited solely by Jews. At first they gathered in private houses for the morning and evening prayers, one time at Gruber's, the other at Schechter's or Schreiner's. The latter finally proposed that they build a synagogue. As time passed it became too small and couldn't hold the eight miniamin[6] of adults. It was decided to hold the morning and evening prayers in two sessions. All the Jews wanted to praise G-d and all of them had problems, sorrows and supplications for the Lord in Heaven, who listens to the faithful when they pray.

And there was a lot to complain about and to pray for. One common problem affected everyone. The soil was so strange, different from that in neighboring settlements, where the fields were green and lush, where birds sang, where the wheat and rye in the fields grew tall and healthy. On sunny summer Saturdays, the Gruber, Schreiner, Wolf families and the children of that poor, crippled widow Chaya used to venture to that other side and look enviously at the gifts bestowed by the Omnipotent on those farmers, who don't even belong to the chosen people. So why does it happen? Why barukh?[7]

G-d protects from the rain... but every spring and autumn it rained often. Thick mud mixed with grease stuck to shoes, pants, capes and long skirts. It was hard work to remove even some of that mud. The stains stayed forever. Sometimes, though not often, all the dirt came off after a wash on a hard, corrugated, scrubbing board in the nearby stream. But then the story would repeat itself after each new rain. It was G-d's punishment. Then there was the problem with water or rather the lack of it. Even after digging deep wells, the water was unfit for drinking or cooking. It smelled of sulfur and the stench wouldn't leave even after long boiling. It just stank. Sender, that strong, one-handed man managed, with the help of his equally strong sons, to dig a well with good water. Barukh hashem![8] But good water was very scarce. There was not enough for all the inhabitants, not even for half of them. Nukhim, who earned most of his money from children, because he sold sweets from his stall (Lord have mercy on such pitiful earnings) tried to dig near that well too. He tried, digging with the help of his wife, Scheyndela Rifka. They worked long and hard and finally were successful. They did find water ... but their joy was short lived. The water stank of sulfur, just like the other wells. Even the nanny goat that Scheyndela Rifka milked to feed her twins, wouldn't drink that water. Sender, at least, allowed people to draw water from his well. But the complaints in all houses never ceased.

Reb Schreiner[9] stood out in this community through his knowledge of the world. He traveled to Drohobycz and other towns and brought back the newspapers from his trips. On Saturday evenings, after prayers, he related to the others the news he had read or heard. His hobby was tinkering. He rebuilt the oven of the baker, Meylech Weiss, and after that his bread was much better. He made crutches for Josef Wolf Halber, the cripple, so the poor invalid could move about.

Then Reb Schreiner started to manufacture candles at home. This brought him, however, only a modest income because of the shortage of bee's wax, the raw material. But because his needs were modest he could manage with his family. Yes, he could. But what was G-d doing?, as the Jews say. Reb Schreiner was troubled by a major problem. His son, worshipped by both parents, was a big worry. The melamed[10] from the kheder[11] complained that Avremele[12] was woolgathering, that while the other children dutifully learned khumash,[13] he, that kaddish[14] of yours, sits over an open book, as if he were sleeping with his eyes open. Father and mother were very worried by their only son who didn't even want to play with his schoolmates.

On Fridays Avremele delivered the candles that had been ordered from his father to all the houses. On the eve of the Sabbath, Schreiner's candles were lit in all the Jewish dwellings.

Avremele helped his father dig a well. There should be good water here, said his father. After they dug the first few shovels of earth, Reb Schreiner suddenly stopped working. He bent down and picked up a few small, hard lumps. Avremele watched his father with wonder.

Nu, tate...

His father showed him a few dark lumps cleaned of clay lying in his palm, and said, Let's go home.

Dusk was falling. They had to hurry to avoid being late for the synagogue. During prayers Schreiner couldn't stop thinking of those small lumps, even though it was a sin. After prayers he didn't stay for a chat as usual, but went quickly back home. He looked up at the dark sky. It seemed to him, that the stars were winking at him meaningfully. He could not stop thinking about the small parcel of lumps now in the pocket of his jacket. Avremele walked silently beside his father. He was surprised by his behavior but didn't dare to ask the reason for all this haste.

Reb Schreiner's wife was also surprised that her husband would not sit at the table as usual to eat supper with them. She watched his every step. He smiled, and singing the melodious fragment of a prayer, took the lumps from their paper wrapping to put them into a flat tin box. How fortunate, he thought, that he had brought home this box which he found in the street in Drohobycz. He was obsessed with picking up random odd and ends, a nail, even a rusty and bent one, that might come handy, a piece of string, or a smooth stone, that can be used for sharpening a pocket knife. His wife didn't like this. She complained and grumbled that he was silly, that the rooms were already full of such rubbish and that she would throw all of it away. But her threats just words. She would never have done anything against her husband.

On the kitchen range the supper was still warming but Schreiner was watching what was happening in the tin box next to the two pots. He was excited. The lumps melted and changed into thick liquid. Schreiner carefully took the box off the hot range and looked at it thoughtfully. What was happening before his eyes reminded him of the raw material he used for candles. This material melted when hot and solidified when cooled, just like beeswax.

G-d, what is being revealed to me, he thought. This is some kind of wax too. Candles can certainly be made of this.

The next day, early in the autumn morning after a restless night full of thoughts, he climbed out of bed softly to avoid waking up his wife and son and on his way out, kissed mezzuzah[15] three times. A cold rain drizzled from the cloudy sky. Schreiner propped the hoe and shovel against the wall of the house, tied a piece of string around his waist and raised the collar of his jacket. He checked that the bag was still in his pocket, took his tools, and went towards his well.

He worked enthusiastically until he became hot; then he stopped digging and gathered the lumps into the bag. Then he stood and reflected, he didn't know for how long. He saw that smoke had begun to rise from the chimney of his house, which meant that his Blima was already up and about. He hurried home with the treasure he had dug. On the way back he made the decision to go later to the second session of the morning prayers. Once inside his house he started working feverishly.

Schreiner was overcome by excitement. He noticed that his hands shook a little. At first this was a bit of an obstacle in tying down the wicks in the tin molds. Soon everything was ready...the molten wax was poured into the tubes. Now one had only to wait ... wait ...

People in the synagogue were surprised when Reb Schreiner arrived so late. It had probably never happened before.

Nu, what's the matter? Did something happen at home, G-d forbid?

All present watched Avremele, trying perhaps to read from his face an answer to their questions. But he only smiled and stood silently next to his father.

Immediately after prayers Reb Schreiner put his tallis[16] and tfillin[17] together with his prayer book into the dark green cloth bag that he gave to his son as usual. Then both left the synagogue. Avremele had a hard time keeping pace with his father. He was also hindered by the wind that blew from one side and whipped his face with rain. At home Schreiner found his wife bent over the tin molds where the candles had cooled. It was not surprising that she shared his excitement.

Reb Schreiner took the first candle made of the so-called earth wax in his hand. He looked at it and seemed reluctant to light it. He didn't quite like its color that, in his opinion, was too dark. Finally he lit it.

May this moment be blessed, said Blima. Just then Halber limped in to ask his neighbor to fix one of his crutches and therefore became a witness to this exceptional event. Reb Schreiner didn't try to hide his discovery. The fame of the new material spread quickly to all the Jewish homes. After evening prayers the only subject of conversation was Reb Schreiner's discovery.

This is a true miracle, some voices said. Perhaps that wax is in the soil everywhere here? Oy, we'll be rich!

Ha! Ha! Ha! loudly laughed Moyshe, called łec, because he was always ready with a story or anecdote.

A miracle? Listen to this! A certain miracle-working tzadik[18] told his students about a miracle: A poor mother had abandoned her child in the woods because she had no money to feed it. The child lay in the forest and cried. A woodcutter heard the baby crying and took it home with him. The hungry baby kept crying but the woodcutter had no money to buy milk. What do you think G-d did? He performed a miracle. The Almighty caused the woodcutter to grow a breast full of milk, so that the baby could be fed.

The snickering of the amused audience filled the synagogue.

Oy Moyshe łec, when you tell a story, all split their sides laughing....

Hush, Hush, Jews, I haven't finished yet. Listen. When the rabbi finished his tale, his students were full of wonder. Only one had a dissatisfied expression on his face. The rabbi turned to him:

You look as if you didn't like that story.

Not quite, answered the student, I cannot understand why G-d performed a miracle in that way, contrary to the laws of nature. After all G-d could have done it differently. Instead of giving a woman's breast to a man, he could have dropped a bag full of money from the sky. The woodcutter would have found it, engaged a wet nurse, and everything would have been fine. The baby would have been cared for and the laws of nature would not have been violated.[19]

My dear boy, you're a rational man. You must admit that since G-d could create the miracle of having the woodcutter grow a woman's breast, he didn't have to part with all that cash. The Jews went home laughing.

Schreiner was not satisfied with the sooty flame made by the candles of earth wax. However, the possibility of free raw material that would just cost a bit of work encouraged him to think that even that shortcoming could be removed. The most important plan now was to increase production. The only thing needed was a new supply of tin molds. He went to see the tinsmith Mendel, called Red, to distinguish him from another Mendel, called Black and who was a cooper. Mendel the Red, caressing his small beard, as was his habit, showed him a few sheets of tin to choose from.

No problem Reb Schreiner, I'll make those tubes just as you want them, with G-d's help. And G-d grant that you'll be satisfied with them and make good candles.

As expected, the earth wax was plentiful and, what was very important, it was not far down but just under the surface. Because of this, there would be many customers.

It happened often that in the evening, Blimele (that was Reb Schreiner's pet name for his wife) had to remind her husband who was so engrossed in his work, that it was time to go to the synagogue.

The neighbors also started to dig around their houses. If Providence had given such a treasure to their village why shouldn't they benefit as well! Itzik Kluger offered to join forces with Schreiner to work together but Schreiner refused.

There's enough wax in my shaft and my Avremele can help me with the work and sales.

The number of the wax excavations grew. The owners collected the lumps they dug to sell them. Some tried to make candles but were not very successful. They had neither Schreiner's experience nor the proper tools.

It must be said that Reb Schreiner was honest in his dealings. Because the raw material was inexpensive, or more accurately, free he lowered the price of candles considerably. Production expanded and the number of customer increased.

On a late October day, when the wind caused the branches of the trees along the road to sway with their yellow, brown, and few remaining green leaves, a thin rain was falling. The forest was preparing winter quarters for its inhabitants. Avremele hurried home along a wet, forest path from Truskawiec. He liked this path, one that he had been taking fairly often in recent days. He watched the birds flying from one tree to another with pleasure and listened to the mysterious sounds coming from the depths of the woods. When he reached the road he heard from afar the barking of dogs that guarded the Ruthenian dwellings. The sack in which he used to carry candles to Truskawiec was empty. The two bottles of that strange water from Truskawiec that he always brought for his father were no burden at all.

Thanks to that very water, Truskawiec became an increasingly popular spa. Even in autumn people went there to treat their ailing kidneys and other ailments with the natural mineral water, which smelled of sulfur, like rotten eggs.[20]

It's strange. The water in our wells has a similar smell but maybe it's not an identical smell. It's probably different water....

On this occasion Avremele had other thoughts as well. Customers from Truskawiec began to complain about the candles he delivered. They objected to the sooty flame that left a dirty film on everything inside the house. They found the flame too dim and what is worse, it crackled. They preferred to pay more for a superior product.

In the evening when Reb Schreiner was preparing to produce the next batch, Avremele said softly:

Tate, do you know what they are saying in Truskawiec?

Surprised, his father stopped working, What caused his son to speak up! It was most unusual.... He listened as Avremele hesitatingly related the customers' complaints and grumbling.

Do you know, Tate, said the boy timidly, I think that your candles from this new wax could be improved. He stopped. Perhaps his father would be angry.... They looked one at another for while.

You say, improved? My kaddish has suddenly became a wise guy! Nu, what needs to be done to make them better?

Avremele blushed. Perhaps he was sorry that he said anything at all, that he dared to upset his father. But it was necessary for his father's own good... His mother approached her son, smoothed his hair, and looked at her husband reproachfully.

Tate, I'm not implying that you don't clean the wax. You certainly do.

Well?

Maybe it's not being done the right way; perhaps it should be done differently?

But how .how? Perhaps you can do it better and show me how it needs to be done my khakham fyn der ma mishtana[21].

Very well, Tate, I'll try

While his father stretched the cotton knots as he always did, Avremele melted the wax in the large pot but did not pour it into the molds right away. Instead, he waited a while, then with a ladle, slowly poured the upper layer of the melted wax into another pot, leaving considerable residue in the first. Father watched all this attentively. He now understood his son's idea.

Now, Tate, pour the wax from the second pot into the molds, they're too high for me; I can't reach them.

Avremele wiped the sweat from his brow. It was not very hot but he was anxious for the success of his experiment

Time dragged on mercilessly for the boy; it seemed that the cooling took ages. His parents were impatient as well, especially his mother. Silently she prayed for her only son's idea to work.

When the first candle made using their son's idea burned brighter than others, didn't produce little soot and didn't crackle, Reb Schreiner and his Blimele were overcome with emotion. How Avremele came by his discovery will remain a mystery forever. After all he had studied neither chemistry nor physics and, as we know, was never an outstanding student of the Scriptures in kheder. When asked by his parents where his idea came from, he always answered: I don't know.

Reb Schreiner's situation improved considerably. The candles he manufactured were bought not only by the locals but also by the inhabitants of Mraznica, Schodnica, Tustanowice, Truskawiec and Drohobycz.

On the next Friday evening the celebrations in the Reb Schreiner's house were special. Avremele's mother covered her head with the white scarf. The khala[22] lay on the table covered with the best tablecloth specially embroidered for this occasion by his mother. Candles were put into the new brass candlesticks. Homemade wine was prepared for kiddush.[23] Blima stood for a while in front of the candles, encircled the flames with her arms and covered her face with hands. Very softly she whispered, Blessed be you, our G-d, ruler of the Universe, who orders us to light our Sabbath candles.

And a little louder: O our Lord in Heavens, full of benevolence, you gave us a son, who bears the name of our forefather. Grant that he grow for your greater glory and our joy. Amen.

Husband and son repeated slowly: Amen.

The news ground wax in the soil spread to places tens and hundreds of kilometers away. More and more people arrived to settle in the village. After building some sort of hut they immediately began digging. Almost always, they found wax. The whole area was covered in pits that after a while had to be dug deeper to get to the precious material. Some of the pits even reached depths of a few score meters. In such cases one had to descend ladders to get to the bottom or ride down in a cauldron tied to a chain secured to a winch. Like moles, people dug in the earth searching for wax in the underground passages. Those who were better off or those on whom fate smiled by giving rich bodies of ore employed boykos, as the poor Ruthenians were called, to do this dirty job. Accidents were unavoidable; the deeper the mines went, the more often there was a danger of methane gas, as in coalmines. The means of rescue were primitive and often insufficient. Rescue actions were made more difficult by the narrow diameters of the shaft entrances, often as small as one and a half meters.

Reb Schreiner's had success selling his candles. For quite some time they lit the local houses and hovels and those in more remote places. News about Borysław's treasure quickly came to the notice of the manufacturers of wax candles further away. They calculated that the product made from the new material might not perhaps be as good as but much cheaper. Because their factories were much more efficient and modern than Reb Schreiner's primitive molds, the Borysław producer was not able to compete with them in spite of the free supply of wax.

Outsiders were buying up all the wax that was excavated in Borysław. Borysław's inhabitants, though well disposed towards Reb Schreiner began to buy their candles from the producers in the larger towns because they were better.

Better? mused Avremele. Perhaps they added something to the wax. Neither father, nor son could find the answer to that puzzle. For Reb Schreiner the competition was a severe blow. Was this short period of prosperity going to come to an end so soon? He had many sleepless nights over this but at last, the first producer in Borysław of candles made of earth wax stopped worrying.

It was February. The village was bound in by frosty weather. Snow filled the shafts; the earth was hard. People stopped mining. When townspeople came to buy wax they found none. Only Reb Schreiner decided to fight winter. Avremele helped as best he could. In a small field next to their house they tore chunks of earth from the frozen ground. They carried the ore into the building on a sledge of narrow planks of wood nailed together. Avremele's inventiveness again was a help to his father. To the ends of the sledge he had tied two lengths of rope so that he and his father could loop them around their shoulders, his father from his side and he himself from the other, so that an increase in the weight of the load would not place more strain on their arms. His father looked at his only son with real pleasure.

How had this happened? He had been such a strange child; he wouldn't study, wouldn't talk ... answered questions with only a short word or two .... and now such ideas appear in his little head. He's growing into a good man. He certainly won't be a learned rabbi, but with such a head on his shoulders ... who knows ... even now he can already fix and improve things ... O G-d protect him with your mighty hand ....

Reb Schreiner realized that people were buying his candles only because the harsh winter prevented them from getting them elsewhere. He anticipated this improvement in his business to be short-lived at best to the end of winter.

Well, so our candles won't sell? Does it matter? Our wax will always sell. Nobody can take this parnusa[24] away from us. G-d gave it to us; he'll protect us. The wax is found only here in Borysław. This business will endure.

After the spring thaw, everything changed again. The manufacturers returned and took all the wax to Drohobycz, Sambor and Stryj.

However, these changes were not the real cause for worry for Borysław's Jews. The changes that followed made their hearts beat faster. Life still went on in the usual way. The reasons for disquiet and complaint were still small but unspoken fears and premonitions stole into conversations and even the silences. Those silences were the greatest worry. Only Moyshe łec did not lose his cheerfulness. One evening in the synagogue he told the following anecdote:

From time to time strangers appeared for a short stay of half a day. They walked around the village, took notes and measurements. They wouldn't say a word to the locals. They took samples of earth in small bags or boxes and left. Rumor said that they were people from Lwów or perhaps Vienna.... Nobody knew for sure....

Plenty of water had flowed in the Tys'mienica since the days when Avremele had helped his father so bravely. Sometimes during the thaw in spring and after the big rains in autumn the Tys'mienica flooded its bed. Many such springs and autumns had passed. He was not called Avremele anymore, just Avram. His face was encircled by a weak but visible black growth. His father, one of the few enlightened inhabitants of the settlement, decided to get him a birth certificate since it was just twenty years since his son's birth. It was late, but better late than never.

When Reb Schreiner told the other Jews to get birth certificates for their children they only smiled and said that there was no need for that....

Neither my grandfather, zihrono l'vraha, nor my father, nor I had a birth certificate, and still everybody remembers the date of his barmitzvah[25] and knows how old he is ... more or less.

Reb Schreiner on the certificate registered his son not as Avremele, or Avrum, but as Abraham Schreiner.

More than ten years had passed since that important event. Abraham Schreiner, already married and on his own, became intrigued by the small plot of land next to his house. A greasy, thick, dark liquid started to appear on the ground there. Its smell reminded him of the time when he dug the well with his father. He already knew that the peasants in the neighborhood used this liquid, which was somewhat like dark resin but much thinner, as a remedy that supposedly cured wounds in animals and even people. By pure chance, young Schreiner learned how combustible that sticky liquid was.

Abraham's contemporaries remembered him as Avremele, who wouldn't study in kheder but had unusual ideas instead. Now the young man came to some interesting conclusions: If that dark, dirty liquid can cure wounds, how powerful would it be if purified ... His thoughts raced. He knew that potato pulp heated in the right way would yield a clear liquid, alcohol. Then maybe if that dark substance were heated ... but there was no one nearby, who had a ready answer.

According to Borysław legend, the appearance of petroleum was connected with the occurrence of an epidemic. One exceptionally hot summer people became sick and many died. Only a few hours after feeling slightly ill, a man would be knocking at death's door. Even petroleum was not effective as a cure. Bells rang in the Catholic and Orthodox churches; masses were celebrated continuously, with crowds crying and praying to heaven for help. In the synagogues, the Jews recited thilim[26], reading the appropriate psalms. Weddings were held in the Jewish cemeteries; it was thought that this would help with any calamity. Flies settled on the fevered faces of the sick, their weak arms could not to wave them off. They were everywhere in the houses and yards.

Abraham Schreiner recollected then that among many wise things learned from his father, blessed be his soul, there were stories about flies being the carriers of sickness. He didn't remember if those were some stories from the Talmud[27] or the Midrash[28], or from another source. His father had also demanded that before a meal hands had to be washed as well as a prayer of thanks for food said. All day Abraham walked around the rooms of his house and woe to any fly he spotted. He attached a piece of leather, the length and width of a small human hand, to a thirty centimeter rod and used it to hit those small, winged troubles, as he called them. He was convinced that they were spreading the epidemic. His obsession with flies often woke him at night when he imagined that he heard buzzing in the room. He was afraid that, heaven forbid, a child might get sick, so shoo.... His wife scolded him for not going with the other Jews to the synagogue to pray for deliverance but he kept telling her that if the people didn't gather together so much, the epidemic might finish sooner.

Other thoughts troubled Abraham Schreiner. How could he clean that sticky liquid to make it pure. Perhaps it could be a more powerful cure for this horrible sickness. Apart from that, it might become useful for other purposes, after all it burns... well, we'll see.

With the arrival of the cooler, autumn days, people's health began to improve. There were fewer new cases and fewer deaths. However, the toll of the epidemic had been terrible. The house of Abraham Schreiner was among the few in which no one had been afflicted with the epidemic.

It was time to get to work. With help of Berl, who inherited his tinsmith's shop from his father, Mendel the Red, he built a tripod structure with an iron hoop at the top. The hoop would support a pot, similar to the one in which his father, blessed be his name, melted wax for candles. A tightly fitting cover was also found. The tap at the bottom was sealed as well. All morning Abraham prepared small pieces of firewood and after lunch, when the neighbors were busy in the fields, he began to implement his plan. Abraham put the firewood under the pot of the mysterious liquid that sat on the tripod's hoop and lit it. The day was exceptionally cool and dry. Abraham sat close by and from time to time added wood to the fire. His heart beat quickly; he guessed that he was confronting a great enigma. Schreiner didn't stir the pot under which the fire was burning briskly. It seemed that he waited for ages ... and then ...

People working in the fields heard the loud explosion. When they rushed back, they saw, even from a distance, his wailing wife, the pot on fire and their neighbor, with his clothes burning, barely alive. Carefully they carried him home.

Medical assistant Meylech, called royfe[29] visited and tended to the victim. It was he who saved the life of the aspiring inventor who did not yet know the rules of chemistry and physics, one of which concerned the expansion of the gas created by the substance he tried to rectify.

His convalescence dragged on for two years. All that time, plans for a second attempt would not leave Schreiner's mind. He shared his idea with visiting neighbors. Listening to all this, his wife called her husband pigheaded and complained that he would bring misfortune on the family.

It's hopeless, she said. There's no cure for his stubbornness.

It was late autumn again. Abraham Schreiner traveled to Drohobycz and even to Lwów to seek advice from educated people about cleaning that so-called kipieczka[30]. He considered pharmacists to be educated people. He learned from them that various pipes and valves are needed for heat exchangers, as well as a perfectly sealed vessel and other implements. One pharmacist even drew a picture of the whole apparatus. Abraham began enthusiastically to gather together the parts depicted in the drawing. As one would expect, his wife was bitter about Abraham's madness. This time everything was done in the cellar of the house with the help of Berl, the tinsmith, who became quite enthusiastic also.

Abiding by strict safety measures dictated by experience and recommended by the friendly pharmacist and by that inventive streak of his, Abraham started the process. The distillation, for this was what he was doing, worked without a hitch. Clean liquid, transparent as water dripped into the container but after a while, Schreiner noticed that the fluid trickling from the heat exchanger was becoming darker. He then stopped stoking the fire under the boiler. Liquid still flowed into the container until finally, the last few drops came out. Schreiner produced a liquid like water, but darker. Its smell was only a little like that of the original substance. Abraham went into the corner of the room and picked up an iron lamp with a thick cotton wick he had prepared earlier. He filled it up with his new product and went out into the backyard. His wife ran to meet him, glad that her husband was whole, undamaged, and smiling happily. In her presence he lit the wick. The flame burned brighter than a candle, even a beeswax candle. Abraham was overcome by joy - barukh hashem!

One of Schreiner's main concerns was to make the flame less sooty. In 1853, he took a barrel of petroleum to Lwów in a two-horse cart (for it was a trip of over 100 kilometers) and unloaded it at Mikolash's pharmacy.

The next chapter in this strange tale has two versions. According to one version, Ignacy Łukasiewicz, a pharmacist working there at the time, participated in the conversation between Schreiner and the owner of the pharmacy. Being an educated and astute man, he implemented the idea of the Jew from Borysław and distilled clean kerosene from the petroleum Schreiner had brought.

The second version assigns to Abraham Schreiner the glory of not only being a discoverer of petroleum but also the pioneer of the petroleum industry. According to this version, passed on by Borysław's grandfathers to their grandsons, Abraham Schreiner produced pure kerosene himself and news about it spread not only to places in Galicia, but even to Vienna, from which, in 1854, Schreiner received the first large order to supply kerosene for the lamps of the to the Emperor Ferdinand I Austrian Railway Company. After that order, others followed.

The Austrian Railway Company bore the name of Emperor Ferdinand I who was still alive at that time, but did not rule.[31] A few years before, Europe had experienced a wave of revolutionary unrest. That period, between 1848 and 1849, was called the spring of nations. As a result of the unrest, Emperor Franz Joseph acceded to the Austrian throne. He sent a considerable number of Austrian troops to Lwów, not far from Borysław. The task of these troops was to guard the empire and its new Emperor. School children and adults learned a new anthem: God support, God protect our Emperor and our country.

Small detachments of troops were stationed in nearby Drohobycz. From there it was only nine kilometers to Borysław. One could easily walk there.

The number of inhabitants in Borysław increased year by year. In 1860 there were already 1,000. Austrian soldiers passing through from time to time told them that all young man in the Austro-Hungarian empire were required to serve in the army. The local Jews were terrified but they believed that God would help them, that He would listen to their heartfelt prayers and protect them from that duty.

Abraham Schreiner developed his petroleum business to keep up with deliveries of his product. The historians of that period called him the pioneer of the new era, the era of petroleum. Another version has it that Ignacy Łukasiewicz, after learning about the distillation of oil from Schreiner at Mikulash's Pharmacy, established a distillery in the town of Jasło. The oil was extracted in that town and also in Gorlice in Krosno but the total output couldn't be compared to Borysław's. The kerosene produced there was allegedly supplied to other parts of the Austro-Hungarian Empire. Both these versions enjoy equal support.

Perhaps a paradoxical article printed during the period of the earth without God[32] can clarify the doubts and remind the world the name of the true discoverer and inventor, without lessening Ignacy Łukasiewicz's services for developing the petroleum industry.

In 1943, when Borysław and Drohobycz were under Nazi occupation, a handful of Jews, the remnant of an army of petroleum workers, were working in one of the refineries. By chance they came upon a scrap of a German scientific petroleum magazine. It was from an article that mentioned the discoverer of petroleum, a Volksdeutscher[33] by the name of Schreiner. One of that group of Jewish workers was a grandson of Abraham Schreiner. He read that story about his Volksdeutsche grandfather; he remembered him as an old Jew with a beard and sidelocks.[34] There!

But the year 1943 was still very far away in the future. Now we are dealing with events that happened in the years before the end of the nineteenth and the beginning of the twentieth century. New ideas and names not yet widely known, such as Wiener Kreditanstalt,[35] Kaiser und Königliche Privilegierte Länderbank,[36]ozokerite instead of earth wax began to be known in Borysław. The Länderbank established the company, Aktiengesellschaft Borysław für Erdwachs und Petroleum Industrie[37] based in Vienna.

All this was bad news. Small local Jewish entrepreneurs were finding harder to conduct business. Some Jewish public companies were set up; the Jewish Bank was created. But neither the companies nor the bank were able to withstand the pressure of the foreign financial giants. Even rich entrepreneurs, like Israel Lieberman, or brothers Leyzer and Moyshe Gartenberg, had problems coping with the new decrees of the administration. But they held on; they could afford the closure of some pits. Many of their workers were dismissed; the remainder expected to be sacked at any time.

The representatives of the powerful banks arrived in Borysław. Szumski, a Pole acting for the Kreditanstalt, and Werber, a converted Jew acting for Länderbank, negotiated the closure of ninety percent of the small ozokerite mines with support from the Austrian Ministry of Agriculture, which put forward a (spurious) argument about workers' safety as the reason. In consequence of that decision, six thousand Jewish workers in Borysław were left without employment and means of support.

The major shareholders of the above-mentioned banks, the millionaire Salomon Meir Rothschild and Samuel von Hahn, the managing director of Länderbank and the President of the Jewish gmina[38] in Vienna were not concerned with the tragic fate of their co-religionists. They accepted the opinion of the anti-Semite, Szumski and the convert, Werber that the Jews of Borysław were unable to become accustomed to the new machinery in the ozokerite mines.

Petitions to Jewish financial potentates asking for help in getting a job in the new ozokerite mines or elsewhere were sent from Borysław. One of the addressees was David Ritter von Guttman. Who was that powerful gentlemen?

In the second half of the nineteenth century two young Jews, Velvel and Duvidl Guttman came to Vienna from Moravia. They began their career by delivering coal to the Jewish households. Being astute and lucky, they quickly became rich and made so much money that, in partenership with Baron Salomon Meir Rothschild, they bought the coal mines in Witkowice and shortly afterwards the metal works there. But to be in business with a baron and not have a title! They discovered that such titles were merchandise as any other. All that was needed was enough money. The money was there. An attempt to purchase a baronetcy was unsuccessful but both brothers were granted the title of Ritter (knight), thus they became Wilhelm, Ritter von Guttman and David, Ritter von Guttman. After the titles came honors, fame, and chairmanships in various societies and organizations.

When David Ritter von Guttman received the petitions for employment in his coalmine from the Jewish workers, he sent an engineer to Borysław to investigate the issue. After a few days the envoy returned with a report stating that the Borysław Jews were not suited to hard, physical labor and certainly will refuse to work on Saturdays. In this way, Guttman pacified his Jewish conscience. It was rumored in Jewish circles in Vienna that the report was inspired by the opinions of David Ritter von Guttman himself.

Despair spread among the Jewish entrepreneurs and especially the workers. With fear in their hearts they watched the building of the new, huge ozokerite mine in the middle of town. Desperation, not just poverty, stole upon Jewish families. Their despair knew no bounds. Mazurs,[39] as they were called, from Western Galicia and poor Ruthenian farmers from the neighboring villages were imported to work in the new mines.

Jewish workers had heard whispers about the dismal work conditions in the new mines. In spite of them, they would have agreed willingly to work in order to earn minimal support for their hungry families. But not a single Jew was hired to work in the mines.

The town was restless. After the greatest of the Jewish Holy Days, Rosh Hashona and Yom Kippur, had been celebrated in 1896, groups of unemployed increasingly began to assemble here and there. Some groups went to the mine, the largest one, surrounded by a tall wooden fence, to listen to the rhythmic rattle of machinery. The noise sounded like the devil's snigger to them. Even the autumn rains and cold weather didn't keep the unemployed Jews at home where they had to watch their children shivering in their rags. They went out into the streets to meet their fellow sufferers. In the pregnant silence with questioning gaze they read each other's thoughts. All were troubled by the same idea: jobs and bread.

Time dragged on and patience slowly ran out. The unemployed Jews talked nervously. More and more often the cry, timid at first, was heard, to the mine! Sabbath was approaching, one of many with not enough money to buy bread for the children. Why, for what sins, oh God! With what other misfortunes will you punish us?

So the workers complained and with these questions they turned their eyes up to the dark, cloud-filled sky. Are you up there? If so, why are you deaf to our despairing cries?

Groups of haggard looking Jews went towards the bridge in the middle of town. They moved like shadows. They walked aimlessly. They came from PaŃska and Kasarnia streets, from Wolanka and Potok. Then suddenly, something unexpected happened. That Moyshe, called łec, who always amused people with his jokes, yelled: Jews, what are we waiting for, let's go together to the mine!

That was the fuse that sparked the explosion. To the mine! To the mine! The human mass started to move.

We want jobs! To the mine!

The passers by were surprised by that spontaneous demonstration, the yelling of their demands, Jobs and bread in Polish and Yiddish and shook their heads with disapproval:

Nothing good will come out of this!

It can't get any worse, can it? replied hundreds of mouths. The crowd filled the entire street. People shouted, Our children are starving! Our families are freezing! Give us jobs, give us jobs!

Some young man climbed onto the shoulders of his comrade and shouted, For Gods sake, people, we won't achieve anything here.... Let's go to Eretz Israel![40] Our place is there!

His voice was drowned by other shouts, We'll starve before we get to Eretz Israel! The solution must be found here, not in Eretz Israel. They destroyed our lives, so they must give us jobs! To the mine!

The situation was becoming tenser by the minute. When the spontaneous, disorganized demonstration reached the tall fence around the mine, the gate was already closed and barred from the inside. The mob stopped and demanded that the manager holds talks with the representation. There was no answer. The mood of the crowd became ore ugly, more aggressive. Stones started flying over the fence into the courtyard, a few at first, then more and more. A rain of stones and bricks. People went wild.

Suddenly the mine went silent. The rattle and hum of machinery ceased. From inside the gate a voice asked in Ruthenian, What do you want?

We demand that the manager talk to our representatives.

The manager is away.

That's a lie, he's there! We want the manager! He must talk to us!

An official replaced the Ruthene at the gate; in German he threatened the crowd with the police and soldiers from Drohobycz.

Call them if you want. Our families are hungry. We have nothing to lose, so we are not afraid of anything!

The crowd started to push against the gates:

Push harder! Once again! Once more!

Unable to withstand the pressure of the mass of people, the gates opened with a clang. The despairing, unemployed Jews rushed inside like a tornado. They were armed with clubs, sticks, wooden planks, iron bars ... They smashed everything in their path. With wild fury they destroyed machines, pumps, equipment.... Amid the noise rose shouts:

Give us jobs! We are hungry! Jobs!

The manager and a few officials were glimpsed far ahead. Terrified, they were running towards a big iron tank. As fast as they could they climbed the ladders and quickly vanished inside.

They were taunted by shouts:

Look what a hero, he's afraid of us, poor Jews!

In the meanwhile the mineworkers, Ruthenians and Mazurs, armed themselves with whatever came to hand and rushed forward yelling, Forward! We'll teach the Jewboys a lesson!

Bloody fighting broke out in the huge machinery shed. Faced by the superior number of desperate demonstrators, the mineworkers ran away or hid. Suddenly someone cried:

People ! The soldiers are coming! Many soldiers with guns....

Nothing more could be done. The Jews ran away chaotically through the gates, through the holes left in the fence after the pickets were torn out ...

An unconscious Jew in a sheepskin coat, typical dress of the night watchmen, lay on the bloody floor of the machinery shed next to the smashed equipment and torn transmission belts.

Only a small percentage of the few hundred unemployed Jews took part in that single spontaneous demonstration.

The question of 6,000 unemployed in Borysław reached the second Zionist Congress in Basel but was taken off the agenda after the representative of the organizations from Germany protested that the Congress was not supposed to deal with social and economic problems.

However, one year later in 1899, Dr. Theodore Herzl[41] returned to the question. In a speech he described the pitiful, tragic situation of the Borysław workers and their unsuccessful struggle for jobs. But this time, it was the Chairman of the session, Rabbi Dr. Moyshe Gaster[42] of London, who interrupted the speech claiming that the problem, once again, could not be a subject of the Congress deliberations. In reply, Mrs. Gottheil,[43] wife of the President of the American Zionists, proposed the organization of a voluntary collection of money from among the Congress delegates. The proposal was accepted. The collection resulted in the huge sum of 1,000 Swiss francs. With that effort, the Congress closed the issue. It is pointless to state that such a sum was a drop in the ocean of need.

Dr. Saul Rafael Landau,[44] a lawyer from Vienna, visited the Jewish settlements in the Eastern Galicia at the request of the London magazine, Jewish World and stopped for some time in Borysław, where he found thousands unemployed Jews in a desperate situation. His widely publicized action, involving, among others, the B'nai B'rith[45] chapters in Germany, especially in Upper Silesia, resulted in a considerable sum of money for the Ahavat Zion society. The aim of that organization was to settle Jews in Eretz Israel. Over ten families from Borysław were resettled at that time.

Due to Dr. Landau's initiative the Jewish Resettlement Society, established in 1891 by Baron Hirsch helped almost 500 Jewish families from Borysław to emigrate to Argentina. It provided great assistance but it was not enough. There were 3,000 Jewish workers who still remained unemployed.

Baron Hirsch's foundation concentrated actively on education. The new school, named after the Baron who financed it, was established in Borysław. It is true that the Zionist organizations already existing in town accused the administration and teachers of the school of a lack of Jewish character and assimilationism, but all the same, the school fulfilled an important role in education and vocational studies. The Jewish community can attribute the significant achievements in those areas to one teacher, Teller, a Jewish poet and writer. In 1896, the year of the Jewish revolution in Borysław, over 400 Jewish children were students in Baron Hirsch's school. They also received some meals there.

Other poor children, hardly more than toddlers, were forced into helping their parents scrape a pitiful living. Like small animals, they scrambled onto wysypy[46] where they could find small lumps of wax covered with sand and gravel. Some older girls, called kuczynierki[47] for an unknown reason, gathered wax together with the small children.

The houses of the poor began to resemble their starving inhabitants. They became bowed and sunken in the earth that held such treasure but which, to them, was a stepmother.

14 kaddish: (Hebrew) prayer for the dead. Also, the eldest son whose duty it was to recite this prayer for his dead parents. ANBack

15 mezzuzah: (Hebrew) a roll of parchment in a small frame (box), nailed to the right hand side of the house entrance door and the doors of every room in it. Pious Jews entering or exiting touch it with their fingers and then kiss them. It is usually done only once each day. ANBack

17 tflillin: (Hebrew) are two small black boxes with black straps attached to them used for morning prayers on weekdays. One part is put onto forehead, the other onto the left forearm, using black leather straps, wrapped around the forearm and the middle finger of the left hand. TNBack

21 khakham fy nder ma nishtana: (Hebrew) Khakham means wise. So begin the four questions that the youngest child asks his father during Passover. AN In the story of the exodus from Egypt read before the special supper called seder on the eve of Passover, four personages appear: The Wise (khakham), The Bad, The Fool and the one who is not even smart enough to ask questions. Ma nishtana thus begin the four questions directed to the father be the youngest child: How is this night different from all others TNBack

22 khala: bread made with eggs, often bdecoratively braided for the Sabbathe nad other special occasions. Back

23 kiddush: (Hebre2w) Prayer over the wine to celebrate the Sabbath or other holy day Back

27 Talmud: teaching, a collection of stories and commentaries on the Holy Scripture. ANBack

28 Midrash: Commentary on the Holy Scripture with rules for religious, and social behaviour. ANBack

29 royfe: (Yiddish) physician. The word was used for medical assistants and barbers, who applied cups and leeches Back

30 kipieczka: local word for crude oil derived from the Polish verb to boil. Back

31 Ferdinand I (17931875): Because this emperor was subject to fits of insanity, a Council of State, led by Prince Metternich ruled in his name until he was forced to abdicate in 1848. TNBack

32 The earth without God: Ziemia bez Boga, the title of the book by Koppel Holzman in which the author describes the Nazi occupation in Borysl\aw. TNBack

33 Volksdeutsch (German): of German nationality. During the the second world war, this term was used to describe citizens of countries occupied by Germany, who could lay claim to German ancestry and thus gain a status that was privileged but still not equal to the German. TNBack

41 Theodore Herzl (1860-1904): born in Budapest, Herzl moved to Vienna where he became a writer, a playwright and a journalist. He became a proponent and philosopher of Zionism that he espoused as the answer to the plight of the Jews in the diaspora. TNBack

42 Moses Gaster (1856-1939): born in Bucharest he went to England where he became a lecturer at Oxford, principal of Judith Montefiore College, and chief rabbi of the Sephardic communities in England. He was active in the Zionist movement. TNBack

43 Gustav Gottheil (18271903): born in Prussia, he was served as assistant in the Berlin Reform Temple, rabbi in Manchester, England and from 1873 as assistant rabbi, then rabbi, of Temple Emanu-El, New York City. He had an enormous influence on Reform Judaism in the United States. TNBack

44 Saul Raphael Landau (1869-1943): born in Kraków, died in New York, he was a writer in Vienna on subjects of social eforem and Zionism and also served as a representative to International Jewish Congresses. TNBack

45 B'nai B'rith: The oldest and largest Jewish charitable organization, established in 1843 in New York. ANBack

46 wysypy (Polish): Tailing dumps left after the extraction of earth wax. These were typical
of Borysław's landscape. ANBack

47 kuczynierki : In his book, On the screen of Life, Stanisl\aw Giza mentions the chicken coops, where people kept poultry, pigs or rabbits. These coops were called kucza in Ukrainian. It is possible that the nickname kuczynierka stuck to the girls who were looking after those coops or perhaps, the nickname came from the houses that looked like coops, where these girls lived. ANBack

This material is made available by JewishGen, Inc.
and the Yizkor Book Project for the purpose of fulfilling our
mission of disseminating information about the Holocaust and
destroyed Jewish communities. This material may not be copied,
sold or bartered without JewishGen, Inc.'s permission. Rights may be
reserved by the copyright holder.

JewishGen, Inc. makes no representations regarding the accuracy of
the translation. The reader may wish to refer to the original material
for verification. JewishGen is not responsible for inaccuracies or omissions in the original work and cannot rewrite or edit the text to correct inaccuracies and/or omissions.
Our mission is to produce a translation of the original work and we cannot verify the accuracy of statements or alter facts cited.